OH. MY. GOD.

It happened. The dreaded thing that all Moms gossip about... only it's a story passed down from Mom to Mom because "it" only happens to other people. Well guess what my people, it happened to me. My kid crapped the bed. No, no, let me re-phrase that. She crapped and then she put it IN the bed. And then again. On the couch.

Nap time used to be a joyous ocassion. I could pay some bills, surf the net for a minute, eat something or just enjoy the "life of two" (or heck, even one!) for a bit. I'd put Livy down with a kiss on the cheek and a pat on the head and quietly exit her room. If I was lucky she'd stay down for at least 2 hours and spend another 30 minutes afterward waking up and readjusting herself to the world. Now, with the above given events, nap time has a certain stigma attached to it. Mostly fear. A lot of worry. And a little bit of denial. I fear nap time for the obvious reason. Who really wants their toddler messing around with poop? Worry because if she does, will she get sick? Where exactly will she put it? If she does get sick how will I explain to the doctor the reason why I think she's throwing up? Is that even something you would take her to the doctor's office for? I can hear the phone conversation now: "Ummm... yeah, my kid isn't feeling well... Why? Oh, you know, she ate poop again." "What the F?" I can hear the operator saying to her co-workers over lunch as she discusses my case. Denial pops in because I am somewhat in denial that this will ever happen again. It's got to be a once in a lifetime child curiousty, right? And yet, I know that if I am not careful and take several precautions, it most certainly WILL happen. Livy is just that type of child. If you had told me that Riley would do this during his toddler years I would have laughed. "Yeah... right" I would have said. He didn't get into things. There was no curious behavior about things like what may lie underneath the kitchen sink and if there was, he never took action on it. Livy not only wants to know, she wants to feel it, taste it, and see what it looks like in her hair. This goes for almost everything including toothpaste, hair gel, hand soap and muddy water out back. So anyway, on this particular day I changed her diaper for the second time that morning, put her pants back on and laid her sweet little self down in bed for a nice long nap. Fast forward almost 3 hours later and I finally hear her squeals. Not bad squeals, more like the talking to herself that she does when she first gets up. I let her go for 15 - 30 minutes because I know she needs this time to fully wake up. If I get her immediately she is cranky. Go figure. So I hear the squeals and the usual "Mommy? Ri-wee? Baby?" which means she's ready. The first thing I notice when I open her bedroom door is a stench. No concern here though. She always ends her nap with a poop. It's strange, I know, but she's like clockwork when it comes to these things. I see her head pop up from the crib, hundreds of tiny curls bouncing with the momentum and she smiles a wide toothy grin. Out comes her evil laugh. If you spend any time with Livy, you know EXACTLY what I'm talking about. Let me just follow this with a quick detail so you can better imagine this situation. The crib is positioned vertically from the door so if you walked into her room you would be looking at the foot of the crib where there are no slats. You can't see inside the crib until you are in the middle of the room and looking at it directly. In those first few miliseconds that I am in her room, I can't see anything but this head starting back at me. The next I am upon the crib and am in pure disbelief. First, my child is stark naked. Like, STARK naked. I know I didn't put her to bed this way. The most she's ever done is yank her socks off. She gets that from me. Strangled toes at bed time are restless toes all night. The next thing I notice is that all of the blankets, stuffed animals and her pillow are lying on the floor on the otherside of the head board and partially draped over a nearby stand-up floor fan. She's got a good arm. The third and most horrifying thing I notice is a brown substance all over the sheet and the crib bumper. It's also covering her pillow. Oh, and her butt and back. OH. MY. GOD. This takes the cake. This is a situation where you don't know what to say, where to look and above all else, where to start. Do I pick her up? I can't. I'll get poop all over myself. Do I try to wipe her off in the crib first? I can't, I'm too short to reach. I go running for a towel and wrap her in it. Pick her up and lay her down on the changing table. She's going to have to wait a minute. While I'm doing this she is repeating over and over again "Mommy, EWW!" which I am relieved about becase A) She realizes this is gross and B) She doesn't seem to have any on her hands which means she didn't touch it directly. At least I don't think she did. I'm still baffled by the items strewn around the room covered in poop. I don't know how she did all of this or managed to keep her hands clean in the process. I wipe her down from head to toe (a bath isn't in the stars right now, I've got too much to clean up at this point) and put her in a one piece pajama outfit with a zipper and a snap. "Now, try and get out of THIS you little booger" I tell her. Evil laugh again. This isn't looking good for me. She goes running when I put her down and I proceed to tackle the disgusting mess of a crib before me. I will spare you the details, let's just say I'm pretty sure she used everything, and I mean EVERYTHING, to wipe her butt. I strip the crib down to the bare mattress and take at least 20 disinfectant wipes to all of the slats and the mattress. I'm not taking any risks here. After about 20 minutes of pure poop hell I now have a large trash bag of linens including one stuffed bunny and one teddy bear which I promptly deliver to the laundry room. I hate this part about Mommy-hood. Just because we grew these little suckers in our bellies and popped them out doesn't mean we should have to be okay with cleaning up their doo. I don't even like to drink after my kids let alone clean up last nights digested macaroni and cheese. Sorry, a bit graphic I know. So I'm en route to the washer which you can only access by going through the kids playroom. Livy is sitting on the couch watching Monsters vs. Aliens for the 300th time this year in her nice clean pjs and doesn't even so much as give me a glance as I carry her toxic load. This is a thankless job, that I know for sure. I put as much as I can fit in the washer on hot and add a little extra detergent for good measure. I should have taken the entire bag and just tossed it, wasn't thinking that far ahead though. My brain was in shambles over this whole ordeal. I leave Liv to her movie and head to the bathroom for a good scrub in the shower. It might seem over dramatic to you, but I was just grossed out. Usually I am good for a solid 10 minutes of showering, teeth brushing and other normal every day hygiene activities before she gets back into trouble or Riley or Natty need something. Well, okay, so they usually want something the moment my big toe hits the shower floor but I can get away with 10 minutes of bliss before I actually have to act on what they need. I just finish rinsing the conditioner out of my hair when I hear Riley come into the bathroom. He rips back the shower curtain with great enthusiasm leaving me standing there under the running water staring at him like he's lost his mind. I try to cover myself... although I'm not entirely sure why. He still doesn't seem to notice nakedness thank goodness. "Mom" he says in a very dramatic filled tone of voice "Livy pooped in the playroom." You know that feeling when your brain feels like a jellyfish has wrapped itself around it and stung the ever-loving piss out of you? No? Okay, maybe it's just me... well, that's what I felt like. My brain was STUNNED. No thought process going on, none. I half fell and stumbled out of the tub, water still running, me still naked. I ran through the living room, through the kitchen and came upon the playroom. Drips of water trailing after me on the floor. There my daughter stood, naked. AGAIN. How? Why? Huh? What? Her pjs in a heap on the floor, her soiled diaper next to them. The couch, which is a cream color, now has brown spots on it. Not only the top of the cushions but the front of it as well. I wish I had gotten her on video tape. Maybe then I could have a full understanding of how this was possible. Not to mention she just pooped twice within the same hour. I don't even get dressed first. I just clean and scrub naked. Shower still running, I break out the spray bottle and attack the couch. Livy is so stunned by the non-sensical made-up words spewing out of my mouth (to replace what I REALLY wanted to scream) that she doesn't even move an inch. She just stares at her angry crazy naked Mommy who is knee-deep in a sea of rags, paper towels and more disinfectant spray. I manage to clean this up a little quicker probably because there are no blankets or pillows involved this time, thank God. I grab new clothes and a diaper for Livy. Wipe her down AGAIN and place a large towel on the couch cushions as she climbs back up. By now I am shivering and my hair has begun to dry. I run back to the shower and jump in to re-scrub all over again. As I'm rinsing myself off I go over the events of the day in my head. Scheming up new ideas on how to prevent this from happening, I think I've finally found the solution. There is only one thing I can think of to prevent my dearest Liv from ever ripping her clothes off and creating this disgusting act: DUCT TAPE. I smile to myself as I envision wrapping a nice long piece around the top of her pants (not too tight, don't worry) so that the little monster can never take her clothes off again. Much less get to her diaper. Hey, if a handyman can fix a leaky pipe with that stuff, I can most certainly fix my pooping child! It's either that or I purchase one of those diving wet suits that zips up the back. Now THAT would be perfect.